


My Sweetest

by FandomDarling99



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable, Diapers, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, baby bucky, caregiver steve, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:37:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomDarling99/pseuds/FandomDarling99
Summary: Bucky is absolutely adorable. Steve is a good Papa.





	1. Wake up

Bucky fluttered his eyes open as a beam of sunlight snuck through the curtains and hit his face. With a small annoyed whine and furrowed eyebrows, the ex-assassin turned his head to the other side and pulled up his blanket to cover his face for good measure. He closed his eyes and gave his pacifier a few sucks, trying to self soothe and lull himself back to sleep. But after a few minutes of tossing and turning and being unable to get comfortable again, Bucky huffed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He gave a small yawn, causing his pacifier to fall from his mouth and hang from the clip attached to the front of his onesie.

   "La-La?" Bucky hummed, glancing around his crib for his favorite toy. There was a small assortment of different toys scattered about his sleeping area; a soft rattle shaped like a flower, a bright yellow teething ring, and a small teddy bear-like doll that made musical notes when its belly was squeezed. But none were what Bucky was looking for. He smiled when he finally found his stuffed sheep under his blanket, and happily cuddled it close to his chest. Out of all his toys, La-La was his very favorite. It was a medium size plush sheep, with soft white fur and curled horns. The eyes were stitched in a way that made them look closed, and paired with a small smile, the toy had a blissful sleeping appearance. La-La had been the first thing Papa had given Bucky, and it was never far from his reach.

   “My La-La. Good La-La.”

 Now fully awake, Bucky took a moment to gaze about and appreciate his nursery. What was once a standard room on the living quarters floor in the upstate Avengers facility had been transformed some time ago into somewhat of paradise for Little Bucky. Papa had painted the walls a soft yellow with dragonflies. The carpet was soft and fuzzy and fun to scrunch your toes in. The toy chest was filled with all sorts of fun things that often kept Bucky occupied for hours. The dresser was teeming with different onesies, shirts, and even overalls. There was a shelf full of storybooks that Papa would read to him at bedtime.

 Every Avenger had chipped in for making the nursery after learning of Bucky and Steve’s age-play and having it explained to them. Question after question had been asked, and Bucky could remember how red he had turned with each one. But in the end he was very happy that everyone else knew. It had been getting harder to hide everything, and there had been suspicions all-around of what Steve and Bucky were up to every time they requested to be left alone for the next two days. They had explained that it was a coping mechanism; a way for Bucky to just relax for a while and not have to worry about anything except where his lamb was or what was for snack that day.  It was in general agreement that the age-play as a way of dealing with stress was a far better alternative than Bucky doing something destructive like drugs or drowning himself in alcohol.  And in time, the team came to know Bucky's little side and what came with it. The baby won them all over in less than a week. With it all out in the open, tension between teammates had gone down all around, and the facility itself felt a bit more at ease. 

 Bucky fell back against the mattress and looked up at his elephant mobile, peacefully watching the little animals go around with an accompanying twinkling melody as he held La-La and lightly gnawed on his teething ring. The elephants reminded him of Dumbo when he learned to fly. He had seen the movie in the theater when it first came out; back in the forties when Papa wasn’t Papa yet and still all skinny and small. The memory was fuzzy, but it was there. Lots of memories were still fuzzy. Sometimes Bucky felt like his brain was like a puzzle that was missing pieces. You could almost make out the picture and get the general idea, but enough was still missing that it just wasn’t enough. Papa had been helping him find more and more pieces to his brain puzzle through stories and old pictures. They would spend hours just curled up together; Bucky listening intently while Papa told him about trips to Coney Island, or the zoo, or the beach, or the war. It was slow, but Bucky remembered bit by bit.

 It was as he watched his high flying elephants go around that Bucky realized he needed to go. He was surprised that he hadn’t wet in his sleep, but he hadn’t slept as long as he usually did. Normally he slept for at least two hours when he napped, but the clock on the dresser informed him he had only slept for a little over an hour. So with a little whimper, Bucky relaxed his body and let his diaper grow warm and wet. He knew the little bears that decorated his diaper were disappearing. With his business done, Bucky sat for a little while with La-La tucked under his chin, still nibbling on his teething ring. But he soon let his whimpers grow louder and louder as the diaper grew cold and uncomfortable. And it wasn’t long before he was wailing for his Papa, tearing rolling down his cheeks as the teething ring fell from his mouth.

   “ _Don’t worry, little one_.” F.R.I.D.A.Y reassured him, the A.Is Irish voice calm and soothing. “ _Your Papa is on his way right now._ ”

 Bucky hiccupped and sniffled, hugging his sheep tight while also attempting to keep his snot from running into the fur of his toy. He didn’t like it when La-La got dirty, because when she got dirty, Papa put her in the washing machine, and Bucky hated for her to go around and around. It was probably dark and scary in there, too. Bucky hated the washing machine.

  “Oh, honey,” Papa stepped into the room, face etched with worry and compassion as Bucky lifted his arms in a signal to be picked up. “What are you doing awake? Come here, Cookie.”

 Bucky was quickly scooped up into his Papa’s arms once the crib bars were lowered. In an instant he was being rocked gently and cooed at, Papa patting his back in a soothing rhythm. Bucky melted into the touch and let his sobs fade to soft whimpers as Papa did a rocky-bouncing motion around the room.

   “And you’re wet, too. It’s alright. We’ll get you cleaned up. Yes, all nice and fresh, and then you can have some lunch. Does that sound good?”

 Bucky nodded into Papa’s shoulder as he was carried to the changing table. He inhaled the scent of his caregiver’s shirt before he was set down; a nice lavender smell that always made Bucky think of springtime and made him feel safe.

   “How did I land such a sweet little boy like you?” Papa smiled as he stripped Bucky of his zoo animal patterned onesie. “That bed-head of yours is just the cutest.”

  Bucky patted his head to find that his hair was all sticky-upy from an odd sleeping position.

   “And just look at those little toes.” Papa continued, giving the digits a squeeze. “Oh, I just may have to take them for myself.”

   “My toes.” Bucky replied protectively.

   “Of course, honey, what was I thinking? I’ve got enough toes already.”

 Papa made quick work off changing his diaper and dressing him in a clean onesie; navy blue with a white cartoon owl on the front. During the process, Bucky giggled at the funny faces being made at him. And he dissolved into happy squeals when raspberries were blown on his stomach. Papa always knew how to make Bucky smile when he felt down. It was one the reasons why he was the best.

 With Bucky changed and clean, Papa took out a hairbrush and bobby pins. “Let's brush your hair. And how about we tie some back so everyone can see your cute little face?”

  The brush was nice, gently going through Bucky’s messy hair and making it neat. And Papa was quick in bringing back his long hair in a half bun at the back of his head. Papa would sometimes ask him if he wanted to cut his hair short like back during the war. Bucky refused and only got trims to keep it tidy. He liked it long. He didn’t really know why, but he just liked it.

   “Let’s get you some lunch.” Papa said when he was done. “Uncle Thor is here. Uncle Sam, too. They can play with you while I make your food. Won’t that be fun?”

   “Play.” Bucky agreed.

 Bucky liked Uncle Thor. He was one of the few people besides Papa that could pick him up and carry him around, making him great for piggyback rides. He would tell Bucky all about Asgard and what it was like there. It sounded pretty there; all golden and sparkly. It was gone now, but Thor always said that Asgard wasn't a place, but a people. Lots of Asgardians lived on Earth now, setting up a new kingdom in Norway, so in a way, Earth was Asgard now. It made Bucky feel happy to think that it didn't matter where you were, as long as you were with your family, you were home.

 And Uncle Sam knew lots of different games and helped Bucky calm down if he was really upset. And he let Bucky watch TV that wasn't just baby shows. Mostly they were documentaries like Planet Earth. Bucky liked the narrator's voice as he talked about jungles and mountains, and it was fun to learn about all the neat things that lived on Earth. Bucky especially liked the ones about the ocean and water. Those were the coolest.

   “What would you like for lunch, Cookie?” Papa asked as he carried Bucky out of the nursery and towards the living room.

   “Hmm... Macaroni?”

   “Of course, cutie. And some fruit, too. Now, what woke you up so early?”

 Bucky pointed to the nursery door. “Sun.”

   “Did I forget to close the curtains all the way? I'm sorry, Buck. The light hit you right in the eyes, didn't it?”

   “Mm-hm.”

 They stepped into the living room, and Bucky's eyes were instantly on the television and the brightly colored tropical fish that swam across the screen. Uncle Sam and Uncle Thor were on the couch, watching, but they turned their attention to Bucky.

   “Hey, kid.” Uncle Sam greeted with a smile. Uncle Thor gave him a wave.

   “Hello, little one. Would you like to come see the fish? Earth's oceans are quite amazing.”

 Bucky pulled away from Papa and stretched out his hands toward the TV.

   “Fishies. Papa, fishies!”

 Papa laughed as Bucky squirmed, wanting to be let down. “Alright, calm down. You can watch the fishies while I cook. Be good.”

Bucky was set down on the carpet by Uncle Sam's feet, who gave him a pat on the head.

   “How're you doing, kid? You’re up early.”

 Bucky covered his eyes. “Sun.”

   “Sun is your eyes, huh? That’s too bad.”

 Bucky simply nodded. He was never one for speaking much when he was Little. He tended to stick to simple phrases and words, accompanied by noises and pointing at what he wanted. He normally got the point across.

  “I don't think you've seen this one.” Uncle Sam informed him, nodding toward the TV. “Blue Planet. This one is about coral reefs; I think you'll like it.”

 Bucky clapped as the camera zoomed in on what the narrator called a Humphead Parrotfish. It was a pretty pinky-blue color with a big forehead. It had big chompy teeth so it could eat the algae that grew on the coral. Bucky didn't see the appeal in eating algae. Macaroni was far better in his opinion. Would a fish eat macaroni? He could ask Papa later. Or maybe F.R.I.D.A.Y would know. F.R.I.D.A.Y knew everything.

   “Pretty.” Bucky hummed as a school of Parrotfish swam around.

 Uncle Thor nodded in agreement. “Magnificent creatures, no doubt. Which fish do you like the most, little one? I quite enjoy the stingrays. I'm not sure why, but they remind me of my brother.”

Bucky tilted his head in thought while petting La-La. His favorite fishy? It was hard to decide. Bucky liked all sorts of fishies. The big ones, the small ones, the funny looking ones that lived at the bottom of ocean. He certainly liked clownfish because of Finding Nemo. Blue Tangs like Dory were good, too. Pufferfish were funny when they puffed up. Maybe there were too many to pick from? Although...

   “Seahorse.” Bucky finally settled on. Seahorses were definitely neat. They could hang on to things with their tails so they weren't swept away in the currents, and they could change color so they could look like seaweed or coral or rocks in order to hide. They were cute, too.

   “A fine choice.” Uncle Thor praised. "Noble things, seahorses. I can easily imagine them, giant ones, pulling a mermaid chariot.”

   “Princess mermaid.” Bucky added, thinking back to The Little Mermaid.

   “But of course. Only the finest for a princess.”

   “Would a mermaid really need a chariot?” Uncle Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, she can already swim.”

   “Do you really need a car when you can already walk?” Uncle Thor countered.

   “... Alright, you got me there.”

 While his uncles began a discussion on the different means of mermaid transportation and overall ways of life that would make sense under the sea, Bucky turned his attention to the kitchen behind him. He watched his Papa pour the macaroni in the steaming pot and give it a quick stir with a wooden spoon. The lid was then put on top, and Papa looked to the basket of fruit and decided that a peach would be a good side for Bucky's lunch. It was only then that Bucky realized how hungry he actually was. He looked down and put a hand on his tummy. It was even grumbling.

   “Papa.”

   “Yes, Cookie? The food's coming, I promise. Just a few more minutes. You don't want to eat hard noodles, do you?”

 Bucky shook his head and scrunched up his nose. Hard noodles sounded icky. With a sigh, he turned back to his uncles, who were squabbling over what mermaids would do for architecture and houses. Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing that if the two of them would just watch The Little Mermaid, they would get their answers. But grownups could be so stubborn and just insist that their own answers were right.

Bucky put a finger to his lips and went "Sshhh", giving his Uncles each a pointed look.

   “Too loud." He told them.

   “Sorry, buddy.” Sam apologized. “Got a bit heated there.”

   “Sorry, little one. We won’t disturb you.”

   “Thank you.” Bucky replied softly, looking back to the TV. He decided that cuttlefish, while pretty, were not good for cuddling. All those flashing colors would keep you up at night. A sea turtle, Bucky thought, would make a much better hugger. They were big and slow and seemed like the type of thing that would enjoy a hug. An octopus would be great at hugs with all those arms. But Bucky knew that in the end, Papa gave the best hugs in the world. The kind that make you feel important and all fuzzy inside. The kind of hugs that make it feel like all the bad things in the world will be ok.

 The macaroni was finished not much later, and Bucky breathed in the smell of noodles and cheese. Abandoning the television, he crawled toward the kitchen, La-La stuck down the front of his onesie with her head sticking out of the top. Bucky always did that when he crawled so that La-La wasn’t dragged across the floor. Papa said it made him look like a little kangaroo.

   “Food?”

   “Yes, my little glutton, your food is ready.” Papa said with a laugh.

 Bucky was scooped up and settled into a chair at the table, where a bowl of macaroni was placed in front of him, along with a ramekin of peaches, and a baby bottle of apple juice. A perfect lunch in his opinion.

   “Do you want to feed yourself, or should I?” Papa asked as he placed a bib around Bucky’s neck. Papa would normally feed Bucky his meals when he was little, unless it was finger foods like sandwich bits and pieces of fruit. Bucky wasn’t very steady with his hands while in his baby headspace. Sometimes, if Bucky was feeling a bit bigger than usual, he would feed himself with minimal spills. But that day he handed his spoon to his Papa and opened his mouth expectantly.  

   “My sweetie.” Papa cooed as Bucky closed his lips around the food. “My sweet Cookie. You’re my little love, you know that?”

 It was words like those that made Bucky squirm with happiness. Papa really did love him. It didn’t matter if he was Big or Little, Papa loved Bucky no matter what. That fact kept Bucky grounded. No matter how bad he felt or how loud his thoughts got, he knew Papa would always be there to make it better.

   “You’re thinking hard. You’ve got that look on your face. Or is that your ‘I’m pooping’ face?”

 Bucky shook his head. “Thinking. ’Bout you. Love Papa.”

 Papa smiled wide and tapped Bucky on the nose. “You are too precious. Have some peach, baby.”

 They sat like that for a while, peacefully alternating between macaroni, peach, and apple juice. Bucky listened intently as Papa told him about one particularly hot summer day back in ’37. Their building hadn’t been equipped with fancy air conditioning, so they had been pretty miserable until they figured out they could loiter in department stores and movie theaters to keep cool. That night they saw the movie Topper. Bucky could sort of remember it; a fussy rich man was haunted by the ghosts of a fun-loving married couple. And he had a rather clear memory of nearly chocking on popcorn from laughing so hard. A clear memory like that was a good sign that he was getting better.

   “We’re back! And she kicked my ass!” Uncle Clint’s voiced echoed from the entrance of the living room. Bucky twisted in his chair to see him, along with Aunt Tasha, stroll into the room. Aunt Tasha looked rather proud of herself while Uncle Clint was close to pouting.

   “Don’t curse in front of the baby.” Sam scolded the archer. Uncle Clint winced when he saw Bucky.

   “Sorry. Don’t repeat that, squirt. But she did wreck me.” He rubbed at his shoulder.

   “Owie?” Bucky asked. After Uncle Clint nodded, Bucky offered him a piece of peach.

   “Thanks, munchkin.”

 Aunt Tasha gave Bucky’s hair a ruffle. “Can I have one, оладья?”

 Оладья meant muffin. Bucky liked that nickname. Sometimes Russian put him on edge, but Aunt Tasha’s voice was always nice and warm like a spring day when she spoke the language.

 He held up another piece of peach, which Aunt Tasha ate from his fingers with a playful growl.

   “You can play as soon as you’re done.” Papa informed him when he reached for Aunt Tasha. “Just a few more bites.”

 Bucky finished the rest of his lunch quickly, whining as Papa cleaned his face off. He took off as soon as he was placed on the floor, going straight for Aunt Tasha arms.

   “My little oладья. I was wondering when I would get a chance to play with you again. How much to do you love Aunt Tasha? How much?”

 Bucky spread his arms as far as they could go. Aunt Tasha rewarded him with a barrage of kisses all over his face and neck, causing Bucky to fall into a fit giggles. Aunt Tasha kicked it up a level by wriggling her fingers over Bucky’s ribs. She was taking advantage of all his tickle spots. It was really unfair because Aunt Tasha didn’t have any tickle spots, so Bucky couldn’t even get her back. So he resigned himself to his fate.

   “Nat, I would prefer if you didn’t break my baby.” Papa called from his place at the kitchen sink.

 Aunt Tasha took her hands away and held them up in a sign of surrender. “Alright, alright.”

 Bucky laid on the floor, trying to catch his breath while still getting the excess giggles out. It felt good to laugh. Too really laugh; the kind that starts in your belly and works its way up and eventually laughing so hard there’s no noise anymore and it’s just kind of wheezing. Those were the best kinds of laughs. And they were the type of laughs that came easily in the Avengers family. Bucky loved his family.


	2. Steve Thinks

Steve sat with Tony and Bruce on the sofa, sipping at his coffee while watching Bucky make a tower out of soft blocks. He was only half listening to Tony tell about his recent trip to California for a tech conference. Most of Steve’s attention was on his baby, who was in serious thought about which block to stack next. Bucky was quietly sucking on his pacifier as he deliberated which of the two blocks he held would be the next to go on his tower. He had the cute little crease between his eyebrows that he got when he was thinking hard. Or pooping. It was sometimes hard to tell the difference when Bucky was Little.

 The baby ultimately decided that the green rectangle in his left hand would best suit his tower and carefully placed it on the very top. It was only a moment later that the tower swayed and fell; blocks tumbling down to the carpet. Bucky looked up at Steve with the most adorable pout, pointing at his ruined creation.

 He whined around his pacifier, giving his Papa big puppy dog eyes. Steve chuckled and gave his baby an amused but sympathetic smile.

   “It fell down, didn’t it? But you can build it again if you want.”

 Bucky picked up an orange block, looked it over, then held it out to Tony. The inventor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Bucky hardly ever asked Tony to play with him.  

   “Go on.” Steve smirked and nudged Tony toward the baby. “You really want to say no to that face?”

 Bucky waved the block at Tony, eyes pleading.

   “Alright kid.” Tony groaned slightly as he lowered himself to the floor. “Let Uncle Tony teach you how to build a tower.”

  Steve took another sip of coffee as Tony explained the technique to stacking blocks so they had the proper weight distribution and wouldn’t fall. Bucky seemed to be listening, nodding along to Tony’s monologue. Every once and a while he would set a block in place and look to Tony for approval. Tony was patient and encouraging with Bucky, taking time in explaining and using less technical terms. Steve was glad to see the two of the interacting. It was good for both of them.

   “How's he been sleeping?” Bruce asked as Bucky decided that it would be best to build a castle for La-La.

 Steve nodded a bit. “Better since he started the medication.”

 Bucky was prone to nightmares. Ever since breaking free of Hydra's control. Ever since he'd been free to be afraid. From time to time, Bucky would wake up in cold sweats, shaking and gasping for air. It was worse when he was Little. Steve would wake to desperate and terrified wails. It would take nearly hours to calm the baby down after such horrible dreams. Steve would be by Bucky's side during every instance; running fingers through his hair while softly singing old Irish Gaelic lullabies, just as Steve's mother had done so long ago. Lately, things had becomea bit more peaceful after Bucky began taking a medication called prazosin that was often prescribed to those dealing with PTSD related night terrors. The dreams weren't gone completely, but they had become less frequent.

   “That's good. Let me know if anything changes.”

   “Of course. I think---ah ah! No, don't you put that in your mouth.”

 Bucky had spat out his pacifier and was making a move to chew on one if the blocks he held. Steve gave him a stern look. Bucky seemed to weigh his options for a moment before dropping his block and reaching for his teething toy that sat off to the side.

   “He sure does like to chew on things, huh?” Tony commented with a slight head tilt. Bucky held out the ring in an offering.

   “No, thanks, little guy.”

   “I think he does it so he doesn't bite his nails.” Steve explained as Bucky popped the teether back into his with a smile. “Used to bite them till they bled before. Now you've got your chewie, don't you?”

Steve directed his last sentence to his baby, cooing lovingly. Bucky looked up at his Papa and squealed happily around his teething ring.

   “Cute.” Bruce muttered as he took a drink of his tea. “He's got us wrapped around his little finger, doesn't he?”

   “Absolutely.” Steve agreed as he watched Bucky hand Tony another block. The baby would look at you with those big puppy dog eyes and it was pretty hard to say no. Not that Bucky always got his way. Steve did his best to be firm and set boundaries. If Bucky broke the rules, there were consequences. There had been no shortage of timeouts and tantrums and tears since they started age playing. Bucky could be quite the little devil from time to time. Stealing snacks, coloring on walls, refusing nap time. Parenthood, Steve found out, was no walk in the park. But he was loving every minute of it. The smiles and laughs and overall joy that came from their age-play was worth the work. After every meltdown there were apologies and cuddles. After every timeout there were kisses and reassurance. In every moment, there was love.

 Steve was pulling from his thoughts by a whimper. Bucky was looking up at him, having lost interest in Tony and the blocks. He kept shifting back and forth like he was uncomfortable.

   “What's up, Cookie?” Steve asked, although he already had an idea what was wrong.

Bucky's lower lip wobbled and tears gathered in his eyes as he reached out to his Papa.   

   “Poo.”

Tony visibly inched out the way a bit, nose screwing up as the smell hit him. Bruce coughed awkwardly, casting his eyes downward at his tea.

   “My sweetie,” Steve cooed as he scooped Bucky up, careful to avoid pressing on the back of the diaper. "You know what, let's get you in the tub. You're due for a bath anyway. We'll get you extra squeaky clean."

   “Bubus?”

   “Yes, you'll have bubbles. And Mr. Octopus and your ducky. Won't that be nice?”

Bucky hummed in agreement and tearfully buried his head in Steve's shoulder as Steve gave him few comforting pats on the back.

   “Captain Ameri-dad to the rescue.” Tony grinned, beginning to place the blocks back in their designated container.

   “Just doing my job." Steve called over his shoulder before turning the corner and heading to the bathroom with his baby.


End file.
